Awakening
by denmother
Summary: AU story. No vampires. Bella and Edward have been married for 7 years when she meets Emmett...This is a journey of self discovery.


**I do not own Twilight. Any recognizable characters and plot lines belong to Stephanie Meyer. I am just attempting to bend those characters to my will in a totally different way and entirely different universe than they were conceived in.**

**Prologue**

I can't stop thinking of him- his wild curls, the startling intensity in his blue eyes as they shift from laughing to wanting, to asking silently if this is what I want, if he is enough, if we are ok. His arms wrapping around me, holding me so close and never close enough. The smell of his skin, slick with sweat, La Coste and the lingering scent of a cigarette. So familiar, so new, always intoxicating. Those moments in his arms with no barriers and few words, as his tongue traces my ear, teases its way down my neck, across my chest, latching on to my sensitive flesh, teasing as I twist and arch and try not to cry out in frustration and desire, those moments where he is mine and I am his. His hands trace the curve of my hip, grip the softness of my thighs and test the weight of my calves and I am lost to him. I would yield anything to him in those moments, looking at me that way, in appreciation and awe and raw desire. In those moments I struggle to let go of what we could be if only we were able and live in the moment of what we are. I struggle to keep my mind in the moment with him, giving and taking exactly what we can and trying to be content with that offering. I know he sees the sadness, the longing in my eyes as he parts my thighs and brings me back to myself, back to him. His hands are magic. They have shown me heights of pleasure I never knew but always hoped existed. His long fingers work me over softly, gently at first before becoming more insistent, begging a response from my body that it is always eager to give to him, for him. I wonder at myself for becoming this woman, who yearns and aches for a man I cannot really, truly possess. These stolen moments are precious and few, ferocious and powerful and never ever enough. In the beginning, when this was new, it was easy to be sated. I thought I could keep my heart locked away from the powerful emotions coursing through my body. In fact I thought to "get it out of my system". I have never before questioned my devotion to my husband, had never anticipated that I would be a wanton woman, wanting and taking something that did not belong to me. I tried for so long to resist this temptation, not to give into the desires of my flesh. I failed. It was too big, too new, too much of something I had never known before and every encounter, whether a conversation, a look, a brush in passing left me aching for more.

So many things were new to me that year. It was as though I was being reborn or finally waking up to life. Though I had not realized I was not fully living before him. Yes, there were certainly times of frustration and desperation and the desire to escape my life, but it is not a bad life and I have commitments I want to keep, obligations to fulfill, people for whom I am responsible and so it seemed to me I just needed to lace my cleats tighter and keep punting. What choices did I really have? I was tied down in every way. After seven years of marriage, two children, staying at home as the domestic partner, grieving the loss of three close family members in rapid succession and five relocations I finally got the chance to go back to school. I thought it would be good for me, getting out of the house. I never dreamed that one choice would open my eyes in so many ways, would shake the foundations of my worldview and change me so intrinsically.

**Chapter 1**

The first day of class, I was so nervous. Anticipating being the oldest in the class, in a very small program, uncomfortable in my skin and scared about putting down the dishrag and venturing out into the world, I had no idea what to expect. My husband pressed a kiss to my forehead as he left, telling me he loved me, he was so proud, that I was beautiful and this would be a grand adventure, one a long time in coming. Bolstered by his confidence, I put a smile on my face and drove my "mom van" to school just like every morning, only this time I was taking myself and not my kids…and I was totally embarrassed for the first time ever by my mode of transportation!

After finding a parking space close to the Massage Therapy Department building, I stubbed out my cigarette and checked the time. Of course, as usual, I was running behind. I had missed orientation so I didn't have a syllabus for this class. The instructor was there when I walked in, bent over his desk shuffling through a messy stack of papers. I glanced around the classroom, noticing I was the last student to arrive. _Well, this is familiar. Late entrance guarantees lots of curious stares._ I could feel my face burning. I made my way to a seat at the far side of the room trying to look friendly but probably coming off as maniacal. My excitement at being back in a formal learning institution, and being out of the house doing something solely because I wanted to was almost palpable in the air around me. I looked back at the instructor and noticed he seemed overly absorbed by his task. _Oh. His gigantic hands can't separate the pages! _I sort of got stuck for a moment staring at those hands. They were literally beautiful. I'm no artist but I would've given anything in that moment for a sketchpad to capture the strength in his fingers that seemed in sharp contrast with the soft look of his skin. _What? Since when do I A) notice other men and B) have a creepy hand fetish? _My eyes followed his forearms, which were huge, up to the rolled cuff of his blue shirt. The sleeves looked as though they would burst at the seams if he were to make any sudden movement. _W-O-W. I would actually like to buy a ticket to that gun show. Did I just think that? Who AM I?_ His shoulders were ginormous and I think I may have audibly gulped. The crown of his head sported wind-blown brown curls. I was itching to grab a handful. _What? Again, who AM I? I am happily married, a mother of two, daughter of a sheriff no less, and I will cease and desist with these lustful thoughts post haste!_

I cleared my throat, "Hey. Are you Mr. McCarty?" _Oh great. Of COURSE he is because it's HIS class. Really good way to introduce yourself as the class dumb ass. Job well done. _"Do you have an extra syllabus? I missed orientation…" My voice trailed off and my face erupted in an all new shade of red as I found myself looking at the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. From the line of his jaw, softened by a five o'clock shadow (at nine in the morning, no less) to his full, lush lips, aquiline nose and deep set blue eyes he was a sight to behold and I was utterly captivated. _Pay attention, his beautiful mouth is moving, words are most likely coming out. And close your mouth, you're not a codfish._

He looked up, laughing softly and said, "Yeah, but everyone just calls me Emmett. So you must be Bella. We missed you at orientation and I don't have a syllabus on me but I can get one for you after class." He smiled and turned back to his messing about on the desktop.

I was sure, in that moment that I would never belong to any man, even my own, the way that I belong to him.


End file.
